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Part IV Of A Diary August 18, 1968 Wounded On My Birthday

I have found someone to write my diary entry, I’m still worried that someone will tell on me, it’s not easy to keep my diary, I hope to continue writing, so here I go.

The right flank is now ready and in position and we need to leave the wounded with the medic, our commander is giving the hand signals to the men to spread out. We are going to attack. Oh no, another rookie is too far ahead and I need to signal to the rest of the men to fall back, this does not look good at all. In a whisper I say, " If you guys want to live, get back, that soldier ahead of you is going right into a trap. If I call him back, they will here me. We can’t leave him alone, but we must proceed very cautiously and be ready for the assault. I guarantee you, the enemy knows we are here."
We have just come into a full view of an opened area. There are no bushes, no trees or anything for us to hide. I know this place, right up ahead are the some bushes and it’s the perfect place for the counter-ambush. I need to signal to the men behind me to give me more spacing or we will all be in the danger zone at the same time. I think they know that I know what I am taking about because they are slowing moving back without retreating.
Just as I said that, that soldier also hit a burried booby trap. He’s legs are very bad as I saw him flip up in the air. Part of the starp metal hit my left arm, but I continue shooting. I’m bleeding and my lower part of my body is parallelized. I can’t move, all I can do is fire my weapon. Oh no, a grenade just fell in front of me. I have to let my body fall down or I will get the full impact of it.
I flipped through the air and landed on my knees. Now my right arm is also bleeding and bullents are flying all around me. One of them hit me on my chest after it ricochette off the red clay on the ground. I finally fall flat on my belly as I see what’s ahead of me but I can’t react. I’m a sitting duck and my vision is getting blurry. I think it’s the sweat or something in my eyes and I feel pain yet I don’t really know from where anymore.
The young soldier that hit the booby trap is screaming in pain and I have to tell him to shut up because the bullets are zeroing in at our fallen positions. He can’t help it, and I can’t seem to help him either. I begin to see black spots in my eyes, but I don’t dare blackout. The medic has been called up and his on his way, and the fighting has stopped.
“Where are you hit man, let me turn you over,” asked another soldier as I lift my head like a turtle in it’s shell.
“No, no, don’t grabbed me from my shoulders, they hurt, " I told them.
Another soldier grapped me from the neck while another one from my legs and carefully flipped me over. Then I said, I’m okay go see ?( don’t want to mention his name) his legs are really bad, I’m okay."
The medic arrives and asked, “Where are you hurt?”
I answered, “I don’t know, I don’t know!”
He could see the blood on my shirt and my face, but I couldn’t .
The medic looks at my arms and puts some bandagages and asked me if I wanted something for the pain.
I waved him off and again begged him to go see the guy in front of me that had been screeming. Another soldier picked my head up and placed my helment under it. I told him to wipe the sweat off my face, but he just stared at me and said nothing.
I knew something was wrong, so I said, " Hey, it’s okay, if it’s blood, please wipe it off because it is getting into my eyes, I’m alright, just do it.!"
It was a relief to be able to see a little more clear. He then asked me if I wanted a cigarette, but I told him that I didn’t smoke and that those things could kill you.

If there’s anyone out there reading, let me know in order to continue, but I think I’m getting boring so if I stop, then you know why there will not be anymore. I seriously understand your opinion. Bye

Copyright © 2008 Oscarelizondo

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Part IV Of A Diary August 18, 1968 Wounded On My Birthday by 


I realize that four chapters is too long for some of you, so I am sorry about that. On the other hand, for the others that are still interested, I’m not done yet. If you are new, you might not understand how off key this sounds unless you go back for chapters I, II, and III with the same title.

Tags

oscars, poems, stories

Comments

  • lisameryl
    lisamerylover 3 years ago

    Oscar, this is so real, raw, intense and heartfelt. I must admit, I got a kick out of your line to the soldier about how cigarettes could kill you…meanwhile, you’re all in the middle of a war zone not knowing if you will live or die. (I quit nicotine a little over 2 years ago, thank God). I’m enjoying this write very much. It truly reads like a good story unfolding before me on your days spent in Vietnam. I would love to read this as a book curled up on the couch sipping a glass of wine. That’s how much I’m into this…EXCELLENT writing. Peace and love be with you always, Lisa =)XO

  • Well, I hope the glass of wind is a good year, and thank you for the patience shown in continuing to read those emotions that are still deep inside my heart. You make me so happy to know you are in to it, peace and hope you stay with me.

    – oscarelizondo

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